


impulsive, affectionate

by 228am



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: M/M, Secret Relationship, derek boxes.. good for him good for him, nawtttt sure what this is but the kissing isnt pg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 02:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/228am/pseuds/228am
Summary: “You can’t possibly think I’m letting you in at this hour.”
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Derek Morgan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	impulsive, affectionate

“You can’t possibly think I’m letting you in at this hour.” Aaron says the second he opens his front door, mouth curling into a tight frown. It’s past one in the morning but Aaron hadn’t been able to fall asleep, his eyes trained firmly on his ceiling, his thoughts racing.

Derek nudges his way in before Aaron has a chance to properly examine his face, the reddening bruise on his jaw, the scrape on his brow, and Aaron lets him, taking one step to the side. This should be awkward since it’s several miles exactly past the line of professional boundaries, except Aaron knows _nothing_ about what they’ve been doing these past few months is professional. It’s bordering on several HR violations and Aaron knows he shouldn’t indulge Derek—well, more than he already does, but he finds himself curious, intrigued, a patterned feeling that always comes with Derek’s presence.

No, it should be awkward, but it isn’t because it never really is with Derek, so Aaron shuts the door quietly behind him and turns to Derek with an expectant look.

“You shouldn’t be paying for beatings, Morgan, you receive plenty on the clock.” Aaron states with a tilt of his head and Derek laughs, wincing slightly when the motion irritates the split in the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, Hanson down at the gym really rocked my shit.” Derek replies as he shrugs off his thin hoodie. He’s wearing a black t-shirt underneath, the fabric clinging to his arms, his trim waist. When he leans down and undoes the laces on his boots, Aaron finds himself taking a singular step forward, fingertips aching to brush against the muscles rippling beneath Derek’s skin, palms aching to smooth over the broad curve of his bicep. Something flares in the base of his abdomen, curling against his rib cage.

Derek stands upright again with a slight smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Help me clean it up?” He asks, brow furrowing a little and Aaron nods almost immediately.

“Come on.” He says softly, leading Derek to the bathroom.

Derek’s recent habit of spending all of his excess energy boxing at the gym means this is the second time he has shown up at Aaron’s door like this, bruised and scraped. It’s nothing serious, mostly superficial, and Derek isn’t looking for a win, just to release all his pent up energy and from experience, Aaron knows Derek has a _lot_ of it.

He hunts for the first aid kit in the cabinet under the sink, fishing it out from behind the toilet paper rolls and bleach, standing up to find himself within inches of Derek’s face, almost exactly aligned between Derek’s legs. It’s a little too intimate here, in Derek’s close proximity, trapped in the small bathroom with the man Aaron finds himself thinking about much too often. About his starlit smile and the creases by his glinting eyes only now, Aaron doesn’t have to think about them, they’re right in front of him.

He exhales, setting the first aid kit down on the edge of the sink Derek isn’t sitting on and instinctively takes one step back. “You can’t be seriously enjoying getting punched, Morgan.” He says, pulling out several alcohol wipes from the kit, ripping one open.

“It’s not about that, Aaron.” Derek replies and Aaron finds himself looking up, his gaze finding Derek’s. Derek tilts his head and leans back and Aaron wishes he would say it again, if only to see Derek’s mouth curl around the syllables, around the familiarity and intimacy of his first name.

“That’s Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner to you.” Aaron laments almost instantly and while he knows that he doesn’t wear sarcasm well, it seems to make Derek laugh, his left knee brushing against Aaron’s hip.

He dabs at the scrapes on Derek’s left eyebrow and cleans up the cut on his right cheekbone, the split in his lip. He eyes the burst capillaries along Derek’s lower right cheek, fingertips grazing the area. Derek doesn’t flinch, and Aaron finds himself once again so painfully aware of their proximity. He takes one small step back and sighs.

“That’s not going to go away for a while.” He frowns and then reaches down with little hesitation, capturing Derek’s right hand in his, examining it.

“I was wearing boxing gloves.” Derek supplies and Aaron only hums, checking over his other hand anyway.

“If it isn’t about the beating then what?” He asks, referring to Derek’s earlier statement. The question comes out of a need to fill the silence, because Aaron knows, and yet, when Derek’s eyes fall on him, his gaze unwavering, mouth pulling into an amused smile, Aaron finds himself forgetting the answer.

What happens next is quick. Aaron has little time to react when Derek hooks a leg around Aaron’s hip. Something rises in his abdomen, fluttering in his stomach, and he stumbles forward, one hand grabbing the edge of the sink, the other coming forward to rest on Derek’s thigh to stabilize himself.

Aaron holds his breath, unable to so much as exhale when Derek reaches forward with one hand, tilting Aaron’s head forward with one finger. There is a sweet smile on his face, so characteristic of Derek and his charm and a reminder of why Aaron has always been so attracted to him like an addict to his drug, but it’s betrayed by the dark, hazy look in his eyes.

“It’s about the release.” Derek murmurs, breathing out slow, warm against Aaron’s cheek, and Aaron ignores the shiver that curls at the bottom of his spine, ignores the way Derek’s mere presence makes his brain short circuit, and he leans forward, nudging their mouths together.

This is familiar territory, Aaron thinks, this is where he feels in control. It’s easy to Derek to flirt, to tease him with his words and his playful eyes, but here, with Derek’s mouth against his, both hands coming to fumble with the fabric of Derek’s t-shirt, pulling it up just enough to wrap both arms around his waist, Aaron feels like he is _finally_ in control.

Their kiss isn’t gentle, Aaron licks past the seam of Derek’s lips, hands interlocking at the small of Derek’s back, pulling back just a little to adjust the angle before he kisses Derek again. Derek’s mouth is hot, slick, and he exhales heavily, knees tightening around Aaron’s hips, one hand coming to rest at the base of Aaron’s neck, the other curling into Aaron’s hair.

Aaron slides his palms over the smooth, taut skin of Derek’s back, fingertips pressing into the column of his spine, tongue swiping over the roof of Derek’s mouth, against the ridges of his teeth and he thinks, dizzily, about how he could swallow Derek _whole—_

“Aaron.” Derek mumbles, pulling back just a little, his hand loosening in Aaron’s hair and he wonders how he didn’t notice just how hard Derek had been pulling it. His next motion is gentler, his hand sliding over the plane of Aaron’s jaw, smoothing over his cheekbone, pushing the hair away from his forehead.

Aaron takes a heavy breath and knocks their foreheads together, pulling his hands out from under Derek’s shirt and towards his belt buckle. “Say it again.” He breathes, mouthing a kiss to the corner of Derek’s mouth, one, twice, and then another to his jaw, nudging his head back.

Derek is willful, pliant, fingers playing with the short hairs at the nape of Aaron’s neck. “Aaron.” He exhales with familiarity, like he has said this name a thousand times, like it was meant to be spoken by him, only.

Gratification floods his veins. Aaron pushes their mouths together once more. It’s forceful, the clash of their teeth, the slick of their mouths impatient, and Aaron can taste the faint metallic taste of blood when their rough movements open the split in Derek’s lip back up. He swipes over the cut, fumbling with the zipper on Derek’s jeans, his free hand smoothing over Derek’s clad thigh.

“Say my name again.” He asks, wonders if Derek can sense the plea in his hushed tone, if he can taste the desperation that coats Aaron’s tongue.

Derek’s eyes flutter shut when Aaron takes him in his hand, the angle awkward, clumsy. Here, under the light of the yellow bulb, with his hand down Derek’s pants, his mouth pressing a kiss behind Derek’s ear, Aaron thinks the best part of it all is the way his name passes between Derek’s lips. He has heard his first name a thousand times and yet, it tastes much sweeter swallowing it from Derek’s mouth before it even has a chance to be breathed into the air.

Outside this apartment Aaron is just Hotchner and Derek is just Morgan and they pretend that whatever they do after hours doesn’t exist but for now, everything is real, tangible, and he plans to savour every moment of it.

He feels dizzy, hot, unable to breathe in the tiny bathroom, his mind clouded with _Derek_ and his erratic breathing and the curl of arousal insistent, closing up his throat, flaring hot inside his veins. “Say it again.” He murmurs.

And Derek does, again, and again, and again.

**Author's Note:**

> no one is reading hotchgan in 2021 but i hope u enjoyed it anyway mwah
> 
> im on tumblr @ prentissmilf.tumblr.com 😙


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